She looked at me and I just had time to see her shake her head, no, as I turned my gun to kill Moose Schmidt.
But someone hit me hard on the side of the head, harder than I’d ever been hit before, and my legs folded beneath me and I crumpled helplessly to the floor, desperately trying to hold onto my vision and my gun, but failing, the darkness coming over me, my Colt clattering to the floor.
It could only have been seconds, but when I came round Jia was in the room too. Her small gun was in the big hands of a young man, a boy really, who looked too much like Schmidt not to be one of his sons. Jia was standing against the wall to my right as if ordered to do so. I’d been dragged forward a couple of feet and the door was pushed to behind me. Not that there was anyone else alive in the house to come in.
I groaned. It felt like the bones on the side of my head were broken. I had a vision of the skull being caved in and a slow painful death imminent. It certainly felt like it.
Schmidt, over by the window, was still smiling as everything had gone right to plan. Sunlight illuminated one side of his face and shadowed the other, making him look grotesque.
He saw my eyes open.
‘My timing was pretty good,’ he said. His illuminated eye was bright blue and as evil as anything I’d ever seen in my life.
I pushed myself up onto all fours. I felt like an old dog struggling to rise in the morning.
Schmidt’s son kicked me in the side, the point of his boot like a blunt knife in my kidneys. I groaned and went down on my belly again.
My mother said, ‘Someone will kill you for this.’
Jia said, ‘I will kill you.’
Moose Schmidt laughed.
‘No one’s managed to yet, young lady. Most of all you.’
I started to rise again, looking warily at young Schmidt. I saw that he had a knife in the belt of his trousers. I thought of Nash Lane and Amos Bowler. I thought of the surprise in their eyes. Young Schmidt made to kick me again and I winced in advance and braced myself. My kidneys felt as crushed as my skull did.
‘Let him get up,’ Moose said. ‘I want him to watch.’
Young Schmidt took a few steps back over towards his father, in his hand Jia’s gun was still trained on me. The slightest adjustment and the barrel would be pointing at Jia. Moose was still aiming his gun at my mother, despite her helplessness.
My mother told Moose how evil he was, using a swear word that I’m not sure I’d ever heard her use before, and Moose laughed again. Jia told him that she knew men that would love to meet him, and that probably would meet him one day. ‘You will die screaming,’ she said. Moose laughed at that, too.
I made it to all fours, and then to my knees, as if praying. I looked across to Jia. Our eyes met. I couldn’t read much into her expression but there was defiance there, and hate. And something else, too. Something that she had learned when fleeing from the soldiers that burned women in China. Something that had kept her alive all across Europe and in the cold, damp, hungry London nights. It was the thing that had helped her cross an ocean and then, on her own, a continent. It was a determination to do whatever was needed.
I waited for the pain in my stomach and my head to ease. It didn’t. The movement had made me nauseous. At least that feeling passed.
I eventually managed to stand up, reaching behind me for support against the wall. I saw my gun, it was on the floor by Moose Schmidt’s feet. I caught my mother’s eyes. There was defiance and hate and determination there, too.
‘It’s OK, Cal,’ she said. Maybe she had seen some defiance in me, also, or at least the tensing of muscles, for despite everything I was getting ready to make a move for my gun.
‘You know, I never had anything against any of you,’ Moose said. ‘In fact I quite liked Samuel. Out of all of them he came closest to, you know, bringing me in. But he was . . . well, he thought he was in control, but he wasn’t. Not even for a little while.’
Something suddenly occurred to me. I looked from Moose to his son. There was a coldness in the boy’s eyes that scared me. Somehow I knew just how much he had enjoyed killing Nash Lane and Amos Bowler.
‘Was it you?’ I said. ‘Was it you who had the gun hidden in his pants?’
But even as I said the words I knew it couldn’t have been. It had only been four years before and the boy in question had been very young according to One Leg’s telling of the tale.
The boy glared at me.
‘He doesn’t speak,’ Moose said. ‘But no, it wasn’t him. I have a few sons. Fact is, I have more than a few.’
‘God help us all,’ my mother said. I’d noticed how she had been twisting her wrists and hands against the ropes that bound her, but now she went still, just as Moose looked at her.
‘You know, I would’ve probably forgotten you had I not kept hearing how this one here was coming after me.’ He turned to me and sneered. ‘If his father couldn’t catch me then what chance his runt?’
Young Schmidt smiled. He mightn’t be able to talk but he wasn’t deaf. He still held Jia’s gun and I couldn’t help but think he was longing to use it. Although from what I’d seen elsewhere in the house I suspected he’d enjoy using his knife more.
‘Yeah, I kept hearing how Callum Johnson was going to come after me. Oh, I was so scared,’ Moose mocked. ‘Year after year I was scared.’ Now he looked at me. ‘But you never came, did you? Seemed to me like you never had the courage. Then this one comes along . . .’ He looked at Jia and he smiled. He seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment. I could see from his eyes that he was thinking of something else entirely. He looked at his son, ‘She’s pretty, yes?’
His boy nodded and smiled. His tongue flicked out lizard-like and left his lips wet.
Jia spat on the floor.
‘He likes them lively,’ Moose said to her.
‘I’ll cut his bits off,’ Jia said.
‘You’ll be tied down, like Mrs Johnson here.’
Despite all the pain that was still raging in my head and in my belly, I was about ready to make a dive for the gun that was still on the floor.
‘Cal,’ my mother said, sensing I was at the point of doing something stupid.
‘And you can watch,’ Moose said, looking at me. ‘How does that sound?’
‘I’ll kill you,’ I said.
‘Of course you will.’ Moose’s shoulders rocked with laughter. Spittle sprayed from his mouth.
I saw my mother working the knots again and one of them, the one that bound her right hand – the hand nearest Moose – appeared to be coming a little loose.
‘You killed those men downstairs,’ I said, looking at young Schmidt, knowing he couldn’t answer. I just wanted them both to look at me. Give Ma whatever time and space I could.
But they didn’t look at me. They were both looking at Jia.
She had slipped an arm out of her jacket, which was now off one shoulder. Her shirt beneath was damp with sweat and moulded to the shape of her breasts. She slipped the other arm from the jacket and let it fall to the floor.
‘Take me first,’ she said, looking young Schmidt in the eye. ‘There’s no need to tie me down.’
He looked briefly at his father and back at Jia. She reached up and undid a shirt button. Then another.
I wasn’t sure what was happening, what her plan was. But I sensed it was all about getting young Schmidt worked up enough that he lost concentration and control. Maybe I could help.
‘You saw us, didn’t you?’ I said to him. ‘Back at the camp out of town. You looked through the window and saw us lying together.’
Jia glanced at me. I’d never mentioned the face at the window to her.
‘Did you like what you saw?’ I asked him.
He made a sound that wasn’t even close to speech. It was animal-like.
‘Jia,’ my mother said. ‘You don’t have to.’
But Jia was holding young Schmidt’s gaze. She had undone all but one of her shirt buttons and now she pulled her shirt out
of her trousers. Her stomach was flat and smooth, the skin glowing with dampness.
Young Schmidt looked at his father again. Moose was grinning. He said, ‘You all know that you brought this on yourselves. You started it, is what I mean.’
Young Schmidt looked back at Jia.
Jia lifted a leg, reached down, and slipped off a boot.
I wanted to tell her to stop, that maybe there was another way, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were still fixed on young Schmidt, and his on hers. It reminded me of the moment she and One Leg had connected during the break at the bird fight. A message that no one else could hear was passing between them. I could see young Schmidt breathing harder, a flush working its way up his neck. His nostrils flared and he blinked rapidly as if he had sweat in his eyes.
Jia slipped off her other boot.
‘Hope you know what you’re doing, young lady,’ Moose said, still smiling. ‘He likes to do it with a knife in his hand. And afterwards, if he ain’t pleased, well, you know.’
But she ignored Moose and she undid her belt, letting the leather ends swing loose. Then she started to unbutton her trousers.
‘Come here,’ she said to young Schmidt.
Now he broke the connection between himself and Jia and he looked at his father. ‘Give me the gun,’ Moose said. ‘And keep your knife handy, like you did for all the others. Just don’t use it too soon.’
Moose looked at me and smiled as his son handed him the gun. Now Moose had a revolver in each hand. None of us – my mother, Jia, or I – were armed. Moose said, very matter-of-factly, ‘If he doesn’t enjoy it, he kills them afterwards. Sometimes he kills them even if he likes it. I think if he likes it he gets jealous thinking of other men who may enjoy the girl in the future. So he kills them. The way a child’s brain works, yes?’
‘You’re a monster,’ I said.
Jia held her arms out wide.
‘Come on then, child,’ she said.
Young Schmidt made that animal sound again, he breathed in deeply and swelled his chest. I was still standing against the wall by the broken door and young Schmidt would have to walk right by me to get to Jia.
Moose read my mind.
‘You try anything and I’ll shoot your mother. Jakob’s good with the knife and he’s also the strongest boy I’ve ever seen at his age. Stronger than most men. Strong as an ox, in fact. So you try anything and he’ll most likely gut you. But I’ll still shoot your mother. And that still leaves the China girl.’
Jakob Schmidt walked right by me, not even sparing me a glance, and I could smell the lust upon him as he started to unbutton his own pants.
‘Jia,’ my mother said.
‘Come on,’ Jia said to Jakob. ‘I’m waiting.’
Jakob grunted something.
Moose said, ‘He wants you to step out of your trousers.’
Jia did as she was instructed.
I had to use all my self-control not to reach out and grab Jakob, to pull him away from Jia. His trousers were around his ankles and his knife was in his left hand. Jia was reaching out towards him, pulling him close as if she wanted to embrace him.
In the last moment before he pressed his lips upon her she caught my eye and I received her message as loud and as clear as that time my father had spoken to me from beyond the grave.
Now, Jia said. Now’s the time.
Moose was laughing. Outside a horse neighed and that too sounded like laughter. I heard people talking from across the street. A dog barked somewhere further down town. I heard my mother sob.
Jakob made an animal sound again, this time from deep down in his throat.
I don’t know what Jia did to him, but one moment he was pressing himself against her, doing something between them with his right hand whilst his left held that knife, ready to plunge it into her if she didn’t please him, and then I saw her reach up to his neck with her left hand, press her thumb into his neck, and he simply slumped against her, all that ox-like strength vanishing instantly.
Where Jia got her strength from I don’t know, but she caught Jakob and she held him like a shield. There was a moment when she eased the pressure on Jakob’s neck and I thought he stirred, but I couldn’t be sure about that, for by then Moose had realized that something was wrong, that his son was unmoving and silent. Moose swung one gun toward Jia, lifting it slightly where he had unconsciously relaxed his aim, only to discover that he daren’t pull the trigger because Jakob was covering Jia.
It was a split second but it was all I had. It was all I needed.
I launched myself at Moose and hit him around the waist just as he twisted and fired one of his revolvers. The explosion was deafening within the room. I felt the bullet slice through my flesh like a great needle. I felt the heat, the punch, the immediate wetness.
And I thought of One Leg surviving for however long it took to do what needed to be done after he’d been shot.
My momentum smashed Moose up against the window frame. Glass shattered. I’m sure there were yells of alarm outside. I grabbed Moose the way Nash Lane had once grabbed me, a bear-hug, holding him as tight as I could, not letting him get his hands up and point either gun at anyone.
Although his hands were trapped between us, he pulled the other revolver’s trigger, and this time the explosion was muffled between our bodies. I felt a burning sensation on my thigh, but whether it was from the gunpowder discharging inside the gun or the bullet itself I wasn’t sure.
I hauled Moose upright from the window, intending to throw him down on the floor and kick him, stomp him, do whatever I could. I knew he had a weak leg and I was sure I could take advantage of that. I felt him release one of the guns that was caught between us and I felt him trying to work his now free hand across to the other gun, to pull back the hammer. I squeezed him tighter trying to prevent his hands moving between us. If I released the bear hug for even a second he would have the advantage.
For a moment our faces were inches apart. His beard smothered my mouth. I could smell his breath; taste the foulness of his lips. It felt like I was an inch away from kissing the Devil. Our eyes met. His looked black, not blue, this close. He was breathing heavily as if he’d been running, wheezing and choking.
But he was strong. Stronger than I would have imagined.
So I squeezed harder trying to stop that breathing altogether, but he grinned at me and I felt him finally cock that hammer between us, maybe with his thumb rather than his free hand. He squeezed the trigger again. I felt the burning of the gunpowder blast and this time I felt a bullet plough into my thigh.
It was like being kicked by a horse and my leg folded beneath me. There was nothing I could do. I was helpless and in that second he knew it, and I saw him grinning as my grip loosened.
I heard more shouting from the street outside.
Moose Schmidt raised the revolver, reaching up with his free hand to ratchet back the hammer. His eyes locked on me, his grin widened.
Then I saw my mother sitting up on the bed behind him, her left arm still bound to the bed, but her right arm free and holding the loose end of rope.
A split second before Moose Schmidt pulled the trigger, my mother wrapped that free end of rope around his throat and yanked him backwards.
Moose wasn’t expecting it and I think he was balanced on his bad leg.
He squeezed the trigger by reflex as my mother pulled him towards her. The bullet whistled past my face. Off balance and with no strength in my leg I fell against the window frame. Moose landed on top of my mother, face upwards, and I saw her immediately twisting her hand so that the rope wound around her own wrist, pulling it tighter and tighter around Moose’s neck.
Moose, lying on my mother but staring up at the ceiling, levered the hammer back on his gun, raised the gun, and pointed it vaguely backwards. He fired and the bullet embedded itself in the wall behind the bed. He tried again and this bullet blasted into a pillow and feathers exploded outwards.
The third time he managed to twist h
is hands such that the gun barrel was pointing directly at my mother’s face.
She was pulling the rope as tightly as she could, using every ounce of her strength. All of Moose’s body weight was on her. His mouth was wide open and his cheeks and the skin around his eyes was bright red. I saw Jia across the room dropping Jakob’s unconscious body to the floor.
I wanted to get across to the bed, to knock that gun from Moose’s hand, but as I pushed myself away from the window frame my leg gave way totally.
Moose pulled the trigger on his gun. The hammer fell on an empty chamber.
It was Jia’s gun. Had Moose been expecting six shots? His eyes widened with fear and panic. The gun had been his last chance.
One of those eyes suddenly filled with blood.
He dropped the gun and started clawing at the rope. But he couldn’t get his fingers between the hemp and his own throat. His hands dropped away, seemingly of their own accord, and he started thrashing wildly on the bed. It seemed impossible he wouldn’t break free of my mother’s one-handed hold.
Then Jia was on the bed, too, kneeling beside my mother, reaching down below Moose Schmidt’s neck, finding my mother’s grip on the rope.
Jia added her strength to that of my mother and together they pulled the rope tighter. Together they held it tight.
I saw Moose’s remaining good eye fill with blood.
It was a long time after he had stopped thrashing, after he had stopped moving altogether, that Jia and my mother let go of the rope.
Chapter 15
By the time Jakob Schmidt came round to find himself tied up with the same rope he and his father had used on my mother, the room was full of townsfolk. Our marshal – Vincent Jenny – had taken control. He, like everyone in town, like Moose Schmidt himself, had been aware that one day I was planning to go after Schmidt. Vincent knew who Schmidt was, and what he had done.
Last One Standing Page 10
